Dumb
by kittycat69
Summary: Oneshot. "You're being really childish. Please stop pouting." "Pouting is dumb." ChristinexMichael.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bones.

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**Dumb**

Michael and Christine spent a lot of their time in the Lab, either watching their parents work or doing homework on the second level in the sitting area that overlooks the lab space. The small sitting area was comfortable and quiet. It was located close enough that their parents knew where their teenagers were, but far enough away so that they didn't bother anyone who was working in the lab below. The arrangement was fine for Christine; she was more than happy to take a nap or read a book or watch their parents work from above.

But not Michael.

Michael loved science, and was always fascinated with his parent's work. He wanted to help and touch and be right up close to the action.

Watching the action from the sitting area above just wasn't enough.

When he was a child, he wouldn't even be allowed into the lab space. But he begged and pleaded and finally, when he was seventeen, his parents got him an ID card and access to the lab space. _Escorted_ access to watch from the side, with strict instructions not to touch anything. Michael didn't want to be escorted, and of course he wanted to touch _everything..._but escorted access was much better than no access at all, so he mostly did what he was told.

Michael's biggest issue came when their parents had a case, and suddenly there was nothing that two teenagers could do in the lab. Michael and Christine were practically ignored by their parents. Their parents worked long hours at the Lab, and usually came home long after their children fell asleep. Michael and Christine did whatever they wanted (Michael certainly didn't protest the increase in unsupervised time with Christine), and pretty much lived off of Chinese Take-Out until the murder case was solved and their parents resumed acknowledging their existance.

But being ignored was really dumb.

And while Christine could shrug if off and find some other way to entertain herself, Michael wasn't like that. Michael wanted to help so badly! He wasn't allowed to help with the murder cases, even though he _knew_ he had a lot to offer the team, and Cam had resorted to taking away his key card on more than one occasion. So he couldn't get two steps into the lab space without someone telling him to go away, and honestly he couldn't get a word in edgewise between his father and Brennan, or worse, his father, Brennan, and Cam.

There wasn't much for a teenage boy to do in a government-funded laboratory anyway.

Michael could sort bones in Limbo or clean beakers and test tubes with the Interns, but he would much rather do something else, like _actual science_. No one would even listen to his ideas, so he stopped trying to voice them.

He was pretty much useless.

It was dumb. Like, really dumb.

And that was the kind of state that usually brought on Michael's sulking tendencies. And Patrick, his younger brother by two years, could never seem to find a way to entertain Michael when he got in one of his moods, and he usually even he bailed when Michael got all _sigh-y_ and restless.

So one day when Christine was walking up the driveway to the front door of the Hodgin's house, the front door flung open and Patrick stormed out past her. Over his shoulder, he shouted, "Your boyfriend, your problem!" after her. Christine traded her backpack onto her other shoulder, and leaned against the doorframe to stare after the younger boy's retreating back in confusion before slowly letting herself into the house and shutting the front door behind her.

She walked into the living room to see Michael sprawled out on the black leather couch.

"Why is your brother being so dramatic?" she asked, but when she looked at Michael's face, she realized, "Oh, because _you're_ being dramatic."

Michael was face down on the couch, right hand dangling off the edge. His shoes were where he'd left them, kicked off next to the coffee table.

He didn't move.

"Mike, get up."

"No," he muttered into the throw pillow.

Christine nudged his foot and set her bag down next to his shoes on the floor.

"Yes," she insisted.

"No."

"Let's go outside."

"Outside is dumb."

With a loud sigh, Christine pushed his legs aside far enough to make room for her to sit.

"Are we really doing this again?" Christine asked, "You're being childish. Please stop pouting."

She tried a few deep breaths to keep her voice calm. What she really wanted was to stand up and dump the boy onto the floor and walk to the coffee shop around the corner.

"Pouting is dumb."

"Michael Hodgins," Christine complained. She leaned over to push at his shoulder so he would make room for her on the couch.

Michael groaned and tilted his head towards her.

"You have no reason to act like this, you are a seventeen year old boy," Christine reasoned, "And you honestly cannot pout just because you don't get to help out with a _double_ _murder_."

"I'm not pouting," Michael argued, but it came out as a whine.

"Babe, I know you love science. I do too! But you sometimes forget how young we are," Christine explained with a small smile, "Don't worry about a thing. You're smart and, one day, your time will come to make decisions and help out. But right now, our job is to stay out of the way when there is a case so our parents can catch the bad guys."

Michael looked unsure, but rolled over onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Christine, "You're so logical that I can't even disagree with you."

Christine laughed into his chest, "I wonder who I get _that_ from."

Michael chuckled and pressed his lips against her temple, "I'm sorry I'm a child sometimes," he sighed, "I just get into these moods and you seem to be the only one who knows how to get me out of them."

Christine curled herself against his chest and kissed his cheek. Michael smiled once more, and looked very comfortable as he held his girlfriend in his arms. He let his eyes fall shut.

It wasn't long until Christine realized he was going to sleep.

She frowned at his closed eyelids, "So I take it you're not taking me on that date tonight, right?"

Michael, his eyes still closed as his voice sounding half asleep, cracked a smile as he replied.

"Dates are dumb."


End file.
